


Small Voices

by Tabithian



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comic), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a small thing, really. Not even worth mentioning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Voices

**Author's Note:**

> *hands*

It's a small thing, really. Not even worth mentioning.

_hellohellohello_

Tim trails his hands against the hanging vines sprawling over a brick wall, smiles faintly at the quiet laughter in his head that earns him along with a sense of simple joy at his touch. Something's been calling him toward this end of town for the last hour, small, bright voices easily lost in the noise of Gotham.

_hereherehere_

It's a small thing, really, not even worth mentioning. (Better not to, with Bruce's stance on metas in Gotham, even if that's not what Tim is. Technically.) It only works with things that are well-loved, cared for. Things that have been granted a tiny bit of something - life, maybe, _heart_ \- like the Velveteen Rabbit.

Tim follows the gentle urging in his head into an alley and around broken crates and other debris to a boarded over window, glass long gone. 

_hereherehere_ , more insistent now, low pressure joining in, steady, solid. Enduring.

Tim lays a hand on the side of the building as he studies the window, feels a quiet rumble in the back of his mind in greeting. 

The boards are old, weathered. It won't take much to break them, but he if he can get in without breaking them, all the better. A mental nudge has him looking to the side where a length of metal piping peeks out from under a dumpster. Rusted and covered in grime, but when he picks it up sturdy enough for the job of prying the boards loose. Once inside he takes a moment to survey his surroundings. An abandoned building, slated for demolition to go by the signs nailed on the walls, the doors. He creeps along the empty hallways until he comes to a closed door, the pull becoming stronger as he approaches a door, half off its hinges.

He spies movement behind it, freezes for a moment.

_hereherehere_

Training, instinct rebel against the voices, the pull. _cautioncautioncaution_

And in the meantime a small voice, muffled by small hands and a small choked sob.

Tim eases the broken door to one side, eyes following the flash of movement as someone scurries away, deeper into the apartment, seeking a hiding place because Tim is the stranger here, unwanted intruder.

"Hey," he calls out, soft, quiet. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

The clatter of something being knocked over, and he listens.

"I'm Red Robin," he says, waiting. 

"I don't know you," a small voice says, wavering on the last word. "My mama told me not to talk to strangers."

Tim smiles. "She sounds like a smart woman."

"She is." Stronger, defiant, like she thinks Tim's humoring her, and it is a her. Tim remembers now, the new earlier and a report of a girl who'd run away from home.

"I bet she misses you," Tim says, leaning against the wall facing the room the girl had run into. He gets a reassuring rumble, _keep going_. "Do you want me to help you find her?"

Silence, save for the soft scrape and scuff of her shoes, fidgeting. Scared, worried, anxious. "I don't know you." Uncertain now, _scared_.

"I work with Batman and Robin," Tim says, and that only stings a little to say. "You know who they are, right?" 

That gets him a snort, disdain clear in her voice. "Everyone knows Batman and Robin." Pale yellow curls, and one bright blue eye scowling at him from the doorway.

Well said. "Right, sorry." Tim smiles. 

"Can you really help me find my mama?" Small, so small, uncertain.

"I can," Tim says, and holds his hand out, waits.

Seconds tick by, and with each one the little girl - Mara - moves closer. Slow, wary, until her fingers slip into Tim's. "I want to go home," she says.

"Okay, Tim says, gently squeezing her hand as he leads them outside, the voices in his head going quiet, satisfied. 

********

The cave is a low, reassuring sound, familiar. Welcoming. 

"How did you find her?" Dick asks, peeling his mask off. Bruce and Damian are on their way back, but for now it's just the two of them.

Tim shrugs as he pulls the cowl of his suit down, runs a hand through his hair. "Lucky, I guess." 

It's a small thing, really. Not even worth mentioning. Though, it does come in handy sometimes.


End file.
